


A Dragon and his Prince

by Frostre



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Asexual Pitch willing to indulge Jack in human form, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Jack the human, Kidnapping, M/M, Masturbation, Pitch the dragon, Rescue, Slightly Stockholm Syndrome-y
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:58:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2437817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostre/pseuds/Frostre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the fairytale stories he’s read, happily ever after would be royalty returning to their kingdoms after being rescued and having defeated evil. But not for Jack. His happily ever after is right here in the dragon’s clutches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by: http://frostre.tumblr.com/post/99665001760/dragons-dont-ever-really-leave-their-princesses

The past few days rumours about a dragon taking the ruined castle close by the mountains for itself have been spreading along the little village of Burgess. At first not much was thought of said rumours. There have been plenty of such about the ruined remains of the once glorious castle. First it had been said to be haunted and now there were tall tales of a great ebony beast claiming it as its home.

However, the rumours only increased and soon there was talk of sightings. This caught the attention of one particular teenage boy in the village.

As the village’s troublemaker — or the fool bastard child as the villagers would so kindly put it — Jackson Overland Frost didn’t have a lot to lose and a whole lot to prove. The children of the village liked him well enough. The adults on the other hand never cared much for his mischief and often told their children to keep away from the village fool.

It’s not just his antics that garner the scorn of the elders. It’s also his unnaturally white hair and blue eyes. He doesn't look like the plain children of the village or even like his younger sister. It's where the 'bastard' part of his reputation comes from and that's understandable enough. The other conclusion drawn is less sensible.

Touched by magic, the villagers whispered behind his back and Jack thinks it foolish. _If only_ he had magic. Then perhaps he could finally make things better for his family. Because of him, his mother is suspected a witch. His mother takes it with good graces, but Jack can see how much she struggles as a mother of two without a husband (who had left even before his sister had been born, Jack hardly remembers him.) It’s a tough life.

Which is why the arrival of a dragon seems fortuitous to Jack.

Dragons are said to hoard gold and unimaginable treasures. If he can get his hands on any of that, he could set his family up for life and perhaps he could earn some of the respect and recognition he’s been craving. It’s a thought that occupies him for days.

He prides himself on being swift and agile. He’s smaller than the adults too so that should make him less noticeable. Sneaking into the castle and taking something without being caught; he could do it. Jack is certain of it and he only grows more convinced as time passes.

This is his chance.

His mother would call the plan foolhardy and stop him which is why he tells no one. Only on the twelfth night after the rumours have started does he tell his little sister of his plan so she can tell mother where he’s gone in the morning. It’s met with a lot of protests and pleas that she be allowed to come along, but Jack convinces her to stay and she helps him pack a few scarce supplies for the journey to the castle.

A tight hug and a few whispered promises and reassurances later and Jack is on his way under the cover of darkness, moving quickly out of the village. If he hurries, he can make it before daybreak. That will hopefully work in his favour if the rumours about the dragon going out at night are true.

 

* * *

 

He arrives, as hoped, before dawn. He’s seen the ruined castle from afar plenty of times and it hadn’t been that impressive. It’s different up close. Standing before it, it’s actual size registers in his mind and it’s _huge_. An enormous structure that looks eerie and foreboding.

No wonder people thought it was haunted, it sure looks as if it could be.

There’s dread bubbling up from the pit of his stomach and Jack stubbornly ignores it, taking only a minute to steel himself before soldiering on.

There’s no sign of life anywhere as he sneaks through what must have once been a great entrance hall. There’s enough moonlight falling through the big gaps of the run-down structure to light his way. It helps him see, though it also makes everything all that more creepy. There are no sounds of nocturnal animals here and the stillness of it keeps Jack on edge.

That changes once he’s made it past the hall. He comes into the next room where the architecture remains more intact and Jack imagines it’s closer to how it used to be. It has a nostalgic beauty to it. It’s darker here, deep shadows surrounding him everywhere, and yet some light remains though Jack can’t pinpoint the source of it.

Creepy and creepier.

If he were a coward, he would have turned and fled. Good thing Jack isn’t. He keeps moving despite his mounting fear, slipping from shadow to shadow. He doesn’t dare light a torch in case that might attract unwanted attention. Fortunately his eyes adjust soon enough and that makes navigating a little easier.

Just not enough so to avoid stubbing his toe on a fallen chandelier. Jack freezes as a clinking, chime-like sound echoes throughout the room. He holds his breath as his eyes dart around frantically for any sign that he was heard.

Nothing moves nor is there any other noise and the unnatural stillness persists. Jack lets out his breath slowly and carefully edges around the chandelier to tip-toe into the next room.

He comes out into hallway that’s strangely lit by scattered candles. His sense of unease grows and still Jack refuses to turn back. Not even when he catches movement in the shadows from the corner of his eye. He figures it’s paranoia getting to him because when he turns his head, there’s nothing there.

He hurries as quietly as possible through the hallway and then finds himself in a colossal room. It might have been a ballroom once, but now it resembles a library. There are books everywhere, heaps of them stacked together. A true treasure trove of knowledge. If one can read, that is. Which Jack can’t.

Regardless, the collection is impressive all the same even to him and he can’t resist letting his gaze roam around the spines and covers of the many books as he walks past them. The way the stacks of books are arranged turns the room into something of a labyrinth. It provides plenty of cover and that’s helpful. What’s less helpful is how the maze-like setup makes it harder to know where he’s going.

There are bigger pathways between the books, big enough to allow room for a dragon (or so he imagines), and although that might get him further into the castle, it also potentially leaves him more exposed and easier to spot. So Jack sticks to the smaller paths between the stacks until eventually he realises that he’s going in circles.

After passing the same stack for what might be the fifth time, he finally gives up and moves to the main path. He peers around the corner carefully in a futile effort to see anything ahead in the dim darkness. Taking a chance, he steps out into it.

He’s about to move forward when something shiny catches his eye. Next to him on a small stack is a peculiar book. It has a deep crimson cover embellished with gold and an odd symbol on the front. It looks important. If he can’t find his way or if there isn’t any other treasure to be found, the book could be worth a lot if he brings it with him.

It’s with that in mind that he picks the tome up.

“Well, well, what have we here.”

A voice speaks up behind him, startling Jack so badly that he nearly drops the book in his hurry to turn around and face—

An immense dragon.

It’s an entirely black, sleek-looking creature with golden eyes that seem to glow with fire in the darkness.

In hindsight, the voice is not as expected. He’d imagined a dragon’s voice to be booming and rumbling, befitting of its size. It’s not. This dragon’s voice is smooth as velvet and seductive, like a shadow given sound.

It’s an absurd thought that occurs to him before fear overtakes him wholly, making his heart hammer in his chest and his breathing seize up. _He hadn’t heard anything behind him!_ How can something so big be so quiet?

The dragon appears to be looking amused in so far Jack can read its expression. Its lips are pulled up and there’s a gleam of teeth that makes Jack want to dart into the nearest narrow pathway.

Before he can execute that plan, the dragon suddenly lowers its head, coming way too close for comfort. He automatically stumbles back, tripping over his own feet and falling down on his ass. It’s the worst mistake he could make, there’s no way he can get up and get away in time now. He’s going to get eaten!

The only thing that might be dissuasive is the fact he’s still holding the book, clutching it to his chest like a lifeline. Perhaps the dragon won’t roast or eat him as long as he’s holding it. It wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable-looking book, right?

The dragon doesn’t seem to be paying attention to the book though, its focus is solely on Jack and it’s extremely unnerving.

“You’re a very pretty little thing.”

Jack is taken by surprise enough that he finds his voice again, feeble and trembling as it is.

“ … Thanks? Um, sorry for— for intruding. I didn’t mean … I was just curious.” Jack rises to his feet very slowly as he speaks, the dragon watching him impassively.

“I can’t even read so this isn’t any use to me,” he chuckles nervously as he lifts the book he’s holding a little for emphasis. “But it’s a very impressive collection you have here. I’ll just put this back and leave you be.”

He begins shuffling over to the stack he’d grabbed the book from, ‘coincidentally’ moving closer to the narrow path he’d come from. He stops in his tracks when the dragon speaks.

“Amusing too. I think I shall keep you.”

“Keep me?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t know what the dragon might mean by that. As long as it means he’ll be kept alive long enough to escape, he’ll take it.

“Uh, right.”

Carefully, under the dragon’s scrutiny, he puts the book back. His heart rate is ratcheting when the book leaves his hands and he glances at the dragon.

“What is your name, human?”

Not answering will probably not go over well so Jack clears his throat awkwardly before replying.

“Jack. Jack Frost.”

“Fitting.” There’s a lilt to the dragon’s voice that makes it deceptively soothing, sending a shiver down his spine.

The dragon lifts his head and silence falls heavily until Jack realises its waiting, staring down at him with an air of expectancy.

“Yeah, I guess. What’s yours?”

Manners seem to please it and what it had been waiting for as the dragon suddenly looks satisfied.

“Pitch Black.”

“Fitting too, I can see that.” Jack hastily offers with a strained smile. And no kidding, the dragon — Pitch — has scales so dark he seems to blend with the shadows. Jack can’t even see his hind legs and he can only vaguely make out the shape of wings.

“Indeed.” Pitch shifts, straightening and jutting out his chest proudly before he tilts his head at Jack, apparently studying him as Jack is trying to study him. “You’ll make a fine addition to my collection, Jack Frost.”

That doesn’t sound good.

“Your collection?” His eyes dart around, glancing at the books. “Well, I’m not exactly a book.”

“Oh, I collect far more than just books.”

That piques Jack’s interest. Maybe he can get out of here with his life and something to show for it after all. If he plays along.

“Like what?”

“Whatever interests me.” The dragon replies nonchalantly though there’s a knowing glimmer in his eyes that tells Jack he’s not really fooling Pitch.

“And I interest you?”

“Sure. You’re pretty and you have potential, so I’ll keep you.”

Before Jack can truly reply, the dragon abruptly turns and slinks away into shadows.

“Hey- wait! Potential for what!?” He calls out into the shadows, receiving no reply.

He’s left to stand there uncertainly, thoroughly flabbergasted. It takes a good few moments for him to gather his wits about him and decide that it’s high time to get out of here as quickly as possible in case the dragon changes his mind and comes back to roast him. Whatever this ‘keeping him’ entails, Jack wants no part of it.

As swiftly and quietly as he can, he goes back the way he came. All the while keeping an eye out for Pitch. Thankfully he doesn’t come across the dragon again and he reaches the entrance hall and then the courtyard without trouble. His heart leaps with joy and relief at the sight of the unobstructed exit. Ditching all his caution and stealth, he makes a run for the bridge outside.

A small, cynical part of him thinks that this is all too easy, but in the face of freedom, Jack dismisses that thought.

Unfortunately his gut instinct turns out to be right. Just as he’s about to cross the threshold to the bridge, he impacts something hard enough to be flung back. He lands in a dazed, groaning heap. As he glances up to the entrance, he notices a weird shimmer in the air not unlike a ripple in water.

Ignoring the pain of the impact and subsequent fall, he pushes himself up to his knees so he can reach out tentatively. His fingers connect with something solid yet invisible, creating more of the ripples. It feels like an odd thrumming when he presses both hands flat against the invisible wall and when he tries punching it, a weird tinkling sound echoes throughout the courtyard.

“I did say I am keeping you, you can’t leave.”

The anger that rises within him leaves no room for Jack to be startled, he whirls around to face Pitch with a furious snarl.

“What is this!? _Magic?_ ”

“Astute observation. Yes, it is.”

The dragon looks smug from where he’s peering out into courtyard from the entrance. If Pitch were a man, Jack’s certain he would have punched that look off his face just now. He rises to his feet, trembling with animosity. All fear of the beast is promptly forgotten.

“You can’t keep me here!”

“Can’t I?” Pitch tilts his head mockingly, garnering a bristle. “I just did.”

“ _What for?_ Just because I’m ‘pretty’ or whatever?”

“Do I need any other reason?”

Pitch’s mild tone is getting on his nerves and he lets out a cry of frustration and mounting desperation. It makes the dragon’s eyes narrow.

“Would you rather I eat you?”

“... No.”

Jack turns away pressing himself against the invisible barrier as though he might fall through if he wishes it hard enough.

“Just let me out.”

“No. You came here because you wanted to so now you can stay here.”

In a really twisted way it makes sense what Pitch is saying. He should apologise for trespassing with ill intentions. Only with anger and despair clawing at his chest, he doesn’t want to.

“Then leave me alone!”

The dragon, strangely enough, does exactly that.

 

* * *

 

In the days that follow, Jack only catches glimpses of the dragon as he roams around the castle freely. There’s plenty to explore to keep him from being bored, rooms full of mysterious trinkets to peruse. Pitch seems to have a thing for magic and most of the items appear to have a magical nature of sort. There’s only one small room, possibly a former broom cupboard, that holds the kind of treasure that Jack had come for. Golden coins and cups and jewelry, though those do him no good now that he can’t leave.

Every day he still tries to find a way past the magical barrier and every day he fails. It’s extremely disheartening and he misses his family so much it hurts. The novelty of exploring soon wears off in a matter of days and Jack takes to holing himself up in the biggest intact bedroom he could find and clean up.

Pitch leaves him food outside the door whenever he falls into fitful (for he keeps having nightmares) sleep and at first Jack refuses to touch it. Trying to find food for himself inside the castle turns out to be futile though. Unless he fancies catching and eating mice, which he doesn’t. Eventually he’s forced to eat the food Pitch leaves him. Usually a mix of obviously stolen fruit, vegetables and pieces of dead animal or the occasional rabbit.

He avoids Pitch, not entering any room the dragon is in, and Pitch in turn respects Jack’s wish to be left alone. As weird as that is, Jack doesn’t question that one small mercy he’s granted. Technically he’s better off in the castle than his home. Here he has a proper bed, plenty of food and there’s a bath he can fill up with water from the clean well in the courtyard. It’s the kind of luxury he’s always wished for his family.

But he’d trade it all in a heartbeat if it meant seeing his mother and sister again. They must think him long dead by now. A thought that does nothing to help his continuously sinking mood. No one will be foolish enough to come try and find him.

He has no idea how long he’s been in Pitch’s castle when he finally feels morose enough to stop caring about his stubborn anger and spite for his captor and actually starts seeking him out. He’s had enough of filling the silence with his own voice.

He finds Pitch easily enough in his labyrinth of books, only there’s something very, very different about the dragon.

“Uh, did you shrink?”

The dragon, now about the size of a large horse, turns his long neck to look at Jack.

“Of course,” Pitch says so plainly as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “How else would I peruse my collection?”

Jack shrugs his shoulders, a bit taken aback by the revelation that Pitch can apparently change his size. “I didn’t even know dragons could read.”

Pitch scoffs, looking very unimpressed with Jack’s statement and Jack shrugs again as innocently as he can.

“Finally done sulking then?”

Jack decides not to grace that with a response, instead boldly moving to Pitch’s side. With Pitch’s current size, he’s not nearly as intimidating as he usually is and Jack doesn’t feel nervous approaching the dragon.

“Are all of these books about magic?”

Pitch studies him for a moment as Jack blinks at him curiously before finally replying.

“Most of them are. Some are about history and others are made-up stories.”

“Huh.” Jack lets his eyes travel around the vast expanse of books, there’s so many that it probably makes sense that not all of them are about magic. Pitch is still staring at him when Jack looks back, making him feel slightly unnerved as he can’t read the dragon’s expression at all. It doesn’t look malicious, more … considering?

“What?”

“Would you like to learn?”

“Learn what, exactly?”

“How to read.”

Jack’s eyes widen in surprise at the offer, gaze darting disbelievingly between the books and the dragon.

“You’d teach me?”

The dragon nods and Jack has to resist the urge to gape at Pitch. Reading is a very valuable skill and then some, it opens up so many options. Jack’s mind races with the possibilities. If he learns how to read, he can read those magic books and perhaps learn how to lift the barrier that keeps him in. It fills him with a renewed hope.

“Yes.” He nods fervently, before remembering how much the dragon likes manners and quickly adding: “Please.”

Appeased, Pitch scales the nearest stack of books and Jack watches in awe at how fluidly the dragon does so. No book goes unlodged or gets torn as Pitch climbs up. It’s more like there’s a shadow falling over the books than something physical climbing along them.

Jack follows down below as the dragon glides (that’s the only word Jack can use for it even though Pitch isn’t even using his wings) along the top rows of the stacks in search of something. When he finds it, he knocks one of the top books down with his tail and Jack rushes forward to catch it.

What lands in his arms is a book of medium-size with a knight depicted on the cover. Jack looks it over with interest, flipping through a few pages and feeling rather glad that the book contains drawings along the writing to make it a bit more appealing.

“What’s this about?”

There’s a silent rush of air and then Pitch lands neatly behind him.

“Fairy tales. Come.”

Jack is led through the labyrinth, deeper than he’s gone before, until they reach a corner in which there’s a desk for Jack to sit at.

 

* * *

 

It’s what becomes his study place and it turns out that learning to read isn’t as easy as Jack hoped it would be. It’s slower progress than he would like and he finds it hard to always keep his concentration on the book, especially when the subject doesn’t interest him which happens often enough seeing as Pitch only hands him story and history books. As frustrated as he occasionally gets, Pitch is surprisingly patient when it comes to teaching Jack.

It’s kind of shocking considering Pitch can have quite the short temper whenever Jack tries to pry too much, but altogether he’s not unpleasant company. He’s knowledgeable and willing to answer the many questions Jack has about the world around them that Pitch has seen far more of. Either because he likes feeling superior by showing off or because he likes the sound of his own voice, perhaps both, or … Jack is starting to suspect that he’s being kept here simply because the dragon is lonely.

No, Pitch isn’t bad company at all and Jack hates that he’s starting to like being around him so he keeps his distance, limiting their time together with just the lessons.

That changes when the seasons start turning. It’s growing colder and the herald of winter permeates into the castle ruins. Piling together all the furs he can find doesn’t always prove effective and one particularly cold night he gives up trying to sleep. It’s not worth all that trouble just to have nightmares.

He decides to seek out Pitch and he finds the dragon in his usual enormous size sleeping among his books. He’s never caught the dragon sleeping before and Jack feels compelled to move closer and touch him to satisfy the childish need to know what Pitch’s hide feels like.

He cautiously siddles closer, furtively letting his fingers brush along a scale. Pitch doesn’t stir and Jack grows more confident. He runs his hands along the scales. They feel warm underneath his palms and standing so close to the dragon, he can feel heat radiating from the beast. It makes him longingly think of sitting by the hearth back home.

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, he walks and trails his hands along leathery skin and ridges. He reaches Pitch’s front where the dragon has his head resting on one claw and just as Jack considers moving around his snout to see how sharp those talons are, Pitch opens one gold-silvery eye to look at him.

Jack freezes in place, feeling caught and awkward. All Pitch does is regard him through a half-lidded eye for a few seconds before moving his head off his front leg … invitingly?

Jack stares as Pitch closes his eye again, sighing and causing a big gust of warm air. It’s so nice and toasty that Jack gives in to the temptation of curling against Pitch’s side. It’s warm and it feels like _home_. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend that he’s falling asleep in front of the hearth with his sister pressed against him. It makes him cry silently until he eventually dozes off.

For once he doesn’t have any nightmares.

Curling up with Pitch becomes a normal occurrence from then on. Pitch doesn’t mind or if he does, he never says anything about it. Jack doubts it though. Whenever he has trouble falling asleep, Pitch will quietly recite a story and that lulling voice has him asleep in no time. Maybe it’s shameful or whatever, Jack doesn’t care. It’s worth it for the warmth and trouble-free sleep.

Following that, Jack goes out of his way to seek out Pitch more often for curiosity’s sake. Whenever he thinks he’s got the dragon figured out, Pitch surprises him. And he knows Pitch goes out, but he never sees him leave. So he makes it a game to try and catch Pitch when he’s leaving yet somehow never quite succeeds. Either Pitch changes shape before he goes out or he’s doing some shadow-blending trick.

At least it’s something to keep preoccupied with besides reading. It turns out that most magic books are written in a different language, much to Jack’s dismay. He’d peeked into some books one time when he was certain Pitch was out and it had been a rather crushing discovery until he resolved to get good enough at reading that he could ask Pitch to teach him other languages too.

Pitch is pretty much the only company around and that causes Jack to gradually have more normal conversations with the dragon. More often does he catch himself talking about his family and Pitch listens though he never questions Jack whenever Jack realises what he’s doing and immediately falls silent.

It’s not quite company, but Jack also has the animals that linger around. They never come inside the castle though some are brave enough to linger in the courtyard. There’s more animal life to be found in the garden out back and Jack has fun chasing hares and foxes barefeet in the snow (especially the foxes, they quickly catch on that it’s a game) and he can always warm his feet against Pitch’s side afterward despite grumbling protests from the dragon.

It’s really not so bad. He can be as free and wild as he wants to be in the confines of the castle and he’s not judged or ridiculed for it. He grows to enjoy it with an almost feral kind of glee.

But he still misses his family and sometimes he cries himself to sleep.

 

* * *

 

There’s nothing out of the ordinary one wintry morning, it’s a day like any other and yet something very special occurs. Jack is out in the courtyard, creating creatures out of snow, when Pitch joins him in a medium-sized form. An unusual occurrence in itself and then Pitch speaks and the words floor Jack entirely.

“You may leave.”

The snowman’s head he’d been creating falls out of his arms as Jack does a double take, certain he must have misheard.

“What?”

“You may leave,” Pitch repeats, face impassive.

Jack is too shocked to do anything other than stare at Pitch as the dragon mutters a few words in an odd language and the barrier shimmers and dissipates, suddenly making the view beyond the courtyard a lot clearer.

Pitch is serious about this.

“Is this— a trick?”

“No.” Pitch moves closer so that he comes to stand in front of Jack and Jack didn’t realise the dragon had been holding anything in one claw until the dragon drops something shiny on the ground. Golden coins. “Take these.”

Jack remains in shock as he gathers the coins, staring disbelievingly at them and then at Pitch. It’s impossible to picture Pitch giving away what is his and yet here the dragon was releasing Jack _and_ handing him coins. Either he’s dreaming or it is a trick or some sort of test.

“Why?”

“It’s what you came for, isn’t it?” Pitch tilts his head, speaking in a tone as if Jack is an idiot for forgetting.

“But what—”

“You may come back.” The dragon interrupts, shutting Jack up for a moment as he processes those words.

This doesn’t feel real and he doesn’t trust Pitch’s motives, but this might be his only chance to get back to his family. Jack knows he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth and he shouldn’t question what Pitch is offering lest he changes his mind, he just has to ask …

“And if I don’t?”

“Then that is your choice.”

Pitch’s expression remains impassive and Jack has no idea what the dragon might be thinking. He takes a hesitant step backwards. Pitch doesn’t budge.

“Alright. Thanks for … teaching me how to read.”

Jack’s not sure why he even says that when he’s been held here against his will, it just seems appropriate somehow.

Pitch merely nods and Jack starts walking backwards, unwilling to take his eyes off Pitch in case the dragon attacks when his back his turned. His steps hasten gradually, nearly causing him to stumble in the snow a few times. It’s not until he reaches the part where the barrier used to be that he pauses to take a deep breath. Once he’s steeled himself, he takes one small step back.

Nothing happens.

There’s no resistance, no barrier, he’s standing on the bridge.

He gasps as though he’s been held underwater, swiveling around to stare across the bridge with wide, disbelieving eyes.

_He’s free._

He glances over his shoulder at Pitch, only to catch a glimpse of the dragon’s back as Pitch retreats back into the castle. Jack doesn’t hesitate anymore; he runs.

His hurried pace doesn’t last long, the layer of snow on the ground slowing him down and exhausting him. He never stops moving regardless.

It’s close to nightfall when he nears the village, gaining a small burst of speed in his excitement. He can see campfires and people gathered around them. The closer he gets the more the chatter and crackling of fire drown out the sound of his harsh pants of breath and the faces grow more distinct.

His mother is among them.

Jack’s heart leaps in his chest and he forgets how tired and cold he is at the sight of her.

He just needs to make it past the tree line and the bare bushes and he’ll know what it’s like to feel her arms around him again.

Except that something he sees makes him come to a prompt halt. So abrupt that he slips and falls, only barely managing to grab hold of a tree so he doesn’t go sliding into the bushes. He ignores his body’s protests, using the tree to help him sit upright in a daze.

There’s a strange man carrying his sister in one arm and throwing the other around his mother’s waist before kissing her cheek. Jack watches on in confusion as his mother giggles and then continues talking to a villager. It finally strikes him then that his mother is actually standing with the other villagers around a fire, chatting normally and looking happy.

There’s an odd sinking feeling in Jack’s chest and he stares numbly as he sinks in on himself, letting the tree catch his weight and keep him in a somewhat sitting position.

Seeing the sight before him confirms something that Jack has long suspected but tried to bury deep within: his family is better off without him. After all it’s only because of him that his mother was considered a witch and he’s been told many times by the villagers that all he did was cause trouble.

Of course she would have moved on.

There’s dread and a certain kind of sadness that overtakes him, keeping him rooted to the spot. All he can do is watch and see how taken his sister seems to be with the man and how his mother looks happier than he can remember her ever being. It’s good that she’s happy, Jack is genuinely glad to see that because goodness knows she deserves that, but there’s a terrible despair at the knowledge that he’s been the one to cause her suffering and that he’s been forgotten so quickly.

He feels weird and conflicted. The reality of his exhaustion and trembling limbs comes crashing back in worse than before and yet Jack can’t bring himself to pick himself up from the snow even after the villagers start going home, his family included.

He stays where he is until his teeth are chattering and numbness seems to have claimed his everything. When he looks up he finally notices that night has fallen. With a heavy heart he forces himself to stand up and considers going back to Pitch.

He almost turns around right there, but he remembers the gold coins Pitch gave him and he should give them to his family. It’s not like he needs them and that way he’s more or less kept his word to his sister. Better late than never.

He trudges over to the house he used to consider home and moves around to the back. To his befuddlement, the window is left partially open, displaying a single lit candle on the window sill. Jack’s not sure why his mother would do that. Keeping the window open in such cold weather could mean his sister catching a cold.

Whatever the reason, at least it’s convenient for him. He quietly deposits the coins next to the candle, peering into the house for one last time as his sadness chokes him up before carefully shutting the window.

With that done, he starts on the long trek back.

 

* * *

 

By the time he gets back in the early dark hours of dawn, Jack is not only thoroughly miserable, he’s also famished and completely numb with cold. He’s close to collapsing when Pitch stumbles upon him in the hallway.

“You came back.”

He could swear there’s surprise in the dragon’s voice and face though Jack isn’t in the right mind to pay attention to it.

“Yes,” he only barely manages to get the word past his blue-tinged lips, voice hoarse and throat scratchy. “I’m going to my room now and I’d like to be alone.”

He ignores the confused look Pitch gives him and hurries to his room as fast as his frozen limbs will take him. He sits down on his bed, not even caring to gather the furs and warm himself, instead curling in on himself. There are tears he’s been holding in the entire time threatening to spill when there’s the sound of his door opening. Jack can’t get himself to lift his head, it feels too heavy and he prefers to keep his face hidden against his knees, nor does he have it in him to tell Pitch to go away.

He can tell by the dragon’s steps that Pitch has shifted into a smaller form and Jack doesn’t budge as they come closer and closer. The bed creaks when another weight joins him on it and the next thing Jack knows he’s enveloped by warmth.

A peek over his knees tell him that Pitch has curled himself around Jack and a second later there’s the rustle of a wing being stretched and then his vision of the rest of the room is obscured. Pitch has wrapped himself around Jack so completely that he’s shielded from the rest of the world.

Jack bites his trembling bottom lip to try and keep the floodgate that’s about to spill in. An effort that’s in vain. He bursts into heaving, ugly sobs that turn his breathing into a pathetic faltering, hitching thing. He’s cried around Pitch before, but never like this. Now he’s a shaking mess full of anguished and choked noises.

Pitch doesn’t say anything and Jack is grateful for it.

He cries until there are no more tears left to cry and his throat has gone so hoarse it can’t produce anymore sound. Once he feels utterly emptied out, only exhaustion remains and sleep claims him soon after.

When Jack wakes, Pitch is still curled around him like a cocoon of warmth. Jack doesn’t even notice it’s already well past dawn until he shifts and Pitch retracts his wing. Jack winces slightly at the sudden sunlight and it takes him a few moments to remember why he feels so hollow. The realisation comes with a miserable noise he can’t swallow back in time, attracting Pitch’s attention.

“Jack?”

Jack hurriedly shakes his head and buries his face in the dragon’s neck so Pitch can’t quite see him.

“Thank you,” he breathes out shakily, attempting to keep his composure. He’s done enough crying last night, no need to start again. “For staying with me.”

He takes a few steadying deep breaths and then sits up properly, allowing Pitch to look at him. What he can tell from the dragon’s expression, Pitch looks … concerned or maybe just confused.

“I’m not going back there so I’d like to stay here. Is that— is that alright?”

“I did say you could come back.” Pitch’s tone sounds amused so that has to be a good sign.

“Yeah, but can I stay too?”

“Of course.”

Pitch says it so matter-of-fact that Jack can’t help but be assured. At least he’ll have a place to stay now that he doesn’t have his home anymore.

Silence falls and Jack takes the moment to stretch himself out. He feels heavy all over as if someone has decided to tie stones to all his limbs. Combined with how hollowed out he feels, it makes it clear that his misery isn’t going anywhere soon. He notices Pitch staring at him from the corner of his eye and he turns his head to catch the dragon’s gaze.

Pitch doesn’t speak and he holds Jack’s gaze long enough for Jack to start feeling nervous. He’s about to speak when Pitch beats him to it.

“Would you like to learn magic?”

Jack blinks and without his consent, a smile slowly works his way across his face as he nods. He suddenly feels just a tiny bit lighter.

“I’d love that.”

 

* * *

 

Since his return Pitch hardly leaves his side. Rather than leaving Jack alone or wait for Jack to seek him out like he’s done in the past, Pitch constantly checks up on him. He all but pampers Jack and it’s as much amusing as it is annoying. He has more food than he can reasonably eat without it spoiling and cold nights are a thing of the past. If he doesn’t go sleep by Pitch’s side, Pitch will come to him to curl around him.

Jack is slowly growing used to it and it’s not like the company is unappreciated, it keeps his mind off more unpleasant things. Pitch never asks what happened, but Jack eventually tells him one night when he’s feeling particularly somber and it turns out Pitch can be a great listener when he wants to be.

Pitch also more readily indulges in whatever Jack asks of him. Which is how he one day coaxes Pitch onto the ice of the frozen lake in the garden with him and it had been a funny spectacle at first until Pitch ruined it by digging his claws in, cracking the ice and making Jack scramble to get off it in time before it could break, much to Pitch’s amusement. Pitch turns a bit more discerning of his requests after that fiasco.

Now that he’s no longer a prisoner held against his will, life at the castle feels much better. Of course he never stops missing his family, he just gets better at distracting himself from that feeling. He has a lot more freedom to explore the area around the castle, though Pitch tends to stick with him like an overprotective guard dog whenever Jack decides to wander further away from the castle’s perimeter. He’s free to do whatever he wants and go wherever he feels like going, it’s a sense of freedom he’s never had before.

A freedom that only keeps expanding when he catches Pitch leaving by chance one evening and asks something on a whim.

“Can I go with you?”

Pitch looks at him for a moment and Jack is certain he’s going to say no with how long Pitch stays silent. Then the dragon surprises him.

“Wear something warmer if you want to go flying.”

Jack hadn’t even said anything about flying. In retrospect it makes sense what Pitch is saying, of course a dragon would fly to get to places, yet it takes him by surprise. He can barely contain his excitement.

“One second!”

A quick retrieval of the fur cloak that he stitched together himself (courtesy of his mother teaching him how to sew) and a moment of Pitch changing into a more manageable size later, Jack finds himself seated on the back of a dragon. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating when Pitch starts moving and takes to the air. Jack has to hold onto Pitch’s neck for dear life for a good while until he grows used to the feeling of Pitch’s muscles shifting and moving underneath him and he gradually relaxes his grip.

Eventually he’s confident enough to let go of Pitch’s neck and stretch his arms out, feeling the wind rushing between his fingers. It’s the most amazing sensation in the world. The view is spectacular and up in the air he feels as free and untethered as the wind itself.

Suffice to say he makes sure that flying with Pitch becomes a regular event in their schedule.

Pitch not only grants him such freedom, he also teaches Jack many things. Like hunting and, as offered, magic.

If Jack thought learning how to read was hard, learning magic is ten times more so. It requires even more patience and it takes Jack weeks before he can even do a simple levitation spell on a piece of paper. Pitch keeps saying that he has potential, the thing he meant when they first met, and Jack doesn’t understand that when it takes him so frustratingly long. Only once he learns how to be more patient does his progress quicken and he finally believes Pitch.

The longer he stays with Pitch (quite a while considering the passing of seasons), the smarter and yet more feral and wilful he becomes. He argues more with Pitch as a result and despite that, Pitch encourages any and all of his growth. They’re always surprisingly quick to move past skirmishes despite both being stubborn of will anyway.

It all comes to the point that he starts considering the castle and Pitch as home.

One of the fun things about home is defending it. Jack has discovered that Pitch doesn’t kill or eat intruders for the most part. He much prefers to scare them in various ways, mostly subtle ones involving shadow play. It’s always fun to find a high place to perch on and watch Pitch work. Even more fun is getting to join in, donning a wolf skin and making objects float and the air turn freezing cold to impersonate spirits. It’s how he comes to be known as the feral ghost boy that haunts the dragon’s castle.

It’s a better reputation than the one he had before in any case.

One that comes to work against him one fateful day.

 

* * *

 

The sound of metallic clanking wakes Jack from his nap. At first he groggily thinks that Pitch must have gone out and gotten his claws on something new he fancied. A notion that’s completely shattered the moment he rolls over onto his stomach, limbs dangling from the huge tree branch he picked as his napping spot, and sees what’s making the racket. From the tree he’s in he has a prime view of the courtyard and the bridge, easily spotting the many armoured men on horses that have reached it.

He goes utterly still, frozen in both fascination and a rising dread that’s slowly turning into fear as he watches on. Scaring one or two people or even a small group is one thing, the number that’s making its way across the bridge won’t be so easily scared off. Jack tucks into himself, making himself small so he’s hidden between the leaves. The men — knights? army? — fan out across the courtyard, most slipping off their horses as the man in front with the most elaborate armour calls for their attention. Jack can spot some men holding banners of the nearby kingdom that he’s caught glimpses of during his flights with Pitch and it makes his stomach turn.

Horses are pulled to the side and Jack’s heart is pounding in his throat as some are tied to the tree he’s in. Luckily he’s not noticed, the men too busy gathering in a formation once the horses are put aside. Jack can only listen as the leader of the party starts speaking.

“Today is the day we will find the lost heir and slay the dragon!”

_Pitch._

His fear and dread turn into full blown panic and Jack can only think of getting back into the castle to warn Pitch. He has no idea if he can even slip by unseen, but he _has_ to try. Quietly and nimbly he works his way down to the lowest branch and drops himself down. It’s silent enough that it would have gone unnoticed if his sudden appearance didn’t spook the horses. They neigh and rear back, drawing attention so that Jack promptly finds dozens of eyes on him.

He doesn’t allow himself to hesitate.

Darting straight through the crowd, he has surprise on his side for a few seconds and he uses the advantage as well as he can, trying to leave the pavement slick with ice in his wake. Unfortunately the season is not on his side, it’s too early into autumn for it to be nearly cold enough, and his frantic panic makes his magic erratic and unreliable. He relies instead on his smaller frame and speed.

He makes it past the crowd when chaos erupts behind him, the surprise having passed. He only narrowly avoids the leader as the knight makes a grab for him and he runs into the entrance hall with footsteps and shouting voices right on his heels. There’s a rush in his ears that makes the yelling behind him almost incomprehensible. He can only catch snippets of things like “Get him!” though it matters little.

What matters is warning Pitch.

“PITCH!”

His shrill shout booms through the ruins of the castle and he can hear the rustle of wings shifting faintly in the distance. “GET OUT—”

Before he can finish his warning, something heavy catches him around the waist and reels him back. An armoured arm. The fair-haired leader of the men has caught him. Jack has a second or so to boggle at the fact the man could keep up with him despite wearing armour before panic drowns out every coherent thought.

He thrashes like a mouse caught by a predator, twisting and turning, fingers scrabbling uselessly on steel. Teeth are just as ineffective though Jack tries in his panic anyway. The man has a vice-like grip on him and Jack’s attempts at trying to remember what Pitch has taught him only sends harmless frost skittering along armour.

“White hair, it has to be him.”

Although the man is speaking near him, somehow his voice sounds very distant. His fear is turning everything hazy until a deafening roar fills the halls, making the men halt in their tracks and go silent.

Everything comes back into focus when Jack sees Pitch appear, larger than ever and looking more furious than Jack has ever seen him before. For a hopeful moment he thinks that will be enough to scare them off.

It isn’t.

The man holding him raises his sword with his free arm and lets out a cry, the crowd behind suddenly springing back into action and rushing forwards and past them with weapons raised. Jack renews his struggles, screaming for Pitch and ignoring the man’s pleas for him to calm down.

It’s when he tries to make a swipe for the man’s face and then wriggle out of his grasp that the man apparently decides he’s had enough. A heavy blow to the back of his head rattles his skull and the last thing Jack sees is the hall being consumed with flames before darkness takes him.


	2. Chapter 2

When he wakes with a groan, the first thing Jack is aware of is that his entire body seems to be aching and then there’s a hushed voice of a woman speaking.

“Quick, it’s worn off. Fetch the king.”

The words don’t make any sense to him and when he opens his eyes, the sight of the room he’s in is completely unfamiliar. As he tries to sit up, the woman appears by his side, trying to gently push him back down.

Jack refuses to comply and sits up despite her protests and his aching body, clutching his head as a painful throb pounds through it, making him dizzy and nauseous.

“What— what happened? Where am I?”

He squints around the room that turns out to be a very grand-looking bedroom. His growing confusion isn’t helping him and thankfully the woman distracts him by pressing a cold, damp cloth to his head. It offers some relief and Jack whimpers.

“Shh, it’s alright, you’re safe now.”

_Safe from what?_ He wants to ask. The words never get to leave his mouth because right at that moment, the door swings open. In steps a man clad in the most luxurious clothing Jack has ever seen, his hair as white and his eyes as blue as Jack’s, and with a fair-haired armoured man by his side that Jack recognises. The recognition sparks his memory and that turns him into a flurry of movement. He makes to get off the bed in a rush, franticness returning and clawing up his ribs, but his head spins and he tumbles back down. The lady that’s been tending to him makes a disapproving noise as she more forcefully pushes Jack down on the bed.

“Don’t worry, son,” the man — _King_ , Jack belatedly realises — speaks. “You’re safe here, that dragon won’t be a problem any longer.”

Jack’s stomach drops, his voice turning weak as all fight leaves him.

“What … what do you mean?”

“The dragon has been slain! Now, you must have a lot of questions.”

Jack does, but at that first sentence they no longer matter. _Pitch is dead._ The words ring through his head like the chiming of a bell and he sinks into a slumped sit, eyes wide and staring unseeing at the sheets.

Shock turns him utterly still and silent and the king takes the opportunity to launch into an explanation. Jack isn’t entirely listening as the king talks about how he is his illegitimate child, how his only other son has died and he needs a new heir to the throne but his wife can no longer bear him any children. Distantly Jack thinks that he finally understands why the villagers called him a bastard. Had they known?

The king goes on to speak of the importance of continuing bloodlines, that Jack is a prince and that they have been searching for him for quite a while. His mother’s story of his disappearance and the surprise gift of golden coins and rumours of a white-haired ghost boy had led them to the castle.

It’s with crushing guilt that Jack realises Pitch is dead because of _him._

“It’s a good thing my knight found you when he did. Sir Theobald saved you.”

Something snaps inside of Jack, a sudden fury momentarily overtaking his despair.

“I didn’t need to be saved!” He wishes his voice to be as ferocious as Pitch’s roar. Perhaps it might have been if it hadn’t cracked so pathetically. He’s not aware of the tears streaming down his cheeks as he bares his teeth as though that might make up for the lack of ferocity in his voice.

Both men look startled and Jack wants to lunge or lash out at them in some way. Before he can make up his mind how to best do so, the woman hurriedly ushers them out of the room with words about shock and needing rest.

With them gone, the will to fight leaves him as abruptly as it had come and he curls in on himself, trying to contain the depth of his anguish in a body that feels far too small for it. There are still footsteps in the room and a moment later a blanket is gently placed around his shoulders.

“King Frost means well,” a soft voice says, full of sympathy. Jack doesn’t care, all he cares about is Pitch. He doesn’t say anything. After a moment, the footsteps move away. “If you need anything, just tell the guard outside.”

With that, the woman leaves and Jack is alone. He cries and wishes more than anything that Pitch was there to curl around him and watch over him, shield him from the world until he feels better.

But he’ll never have that again.

 

* * *

 

In the days that follow Jack refuses to eat and touch anything that’s offered to him, both out of grief and spite for the king and his men. He kicks and screams when the servants try to put him in a bath and he doesn’t allow anyone but the woman that first tended to him — Ingrid — near him. He doesn’t leave his room either.

Eventually it wears down at him though and the knowledge that, with Pitch dead and his mother and sister better off without him, he has nothing to return to weighs heavily on him until finally he stops caring and gives in. Escaping is out of the question either way. His room is heavily guarded and for some reason his magic doesn’t work. Any time he tries reaching for it, it’s like slamming into an invisible wall all over again. When he asks Ingrid about magic in the castle, she tells him the castle is warded against it.

Although his grief stays consistent, his anger slowly starts fading as Jack starts blaming himself for Pitch’s death more and more.

He stops resisting.

He’s washed, fed, put into proper clothes and walked around the castle. It’s bigger and grander than Pitch’s castle, what with it being intact and whole, and the garden is massive with neatly trimmed hedges and carefully selected flowers. It all feels _wrong_ to Jack, the castle ruins had been better in all their wild, overgrown glory. Everything here is too prim and proper.

The king (Jack refuses to call him his father) is not actually a bad man. He’s jovial and honourable and he speaks of Jack’s mother with such warmth that it’s clear he truly loved her. He confides in Jack that he would have married her had his family not opposed marriage to a farmer’s daughter and gotten him engaged to a princess of another kingdom. Jack can’t hate him entirely.

Sir Theobald is a different story and Jack avoids him and his men like the plague despite Theobald’s earnest attempts at approaching him. The king’s wife is also someone he rather stays away from, her dirty looks and snide attitude towards him behind the king’s back do nothing to endear her to him.

Once the king has decided he’s been adequately ‘settled in’, he’s given lessons in manners and the ways of the court. They’re mindblowingly _dull_ and the teachers are a lot less patient with him than Pitch had been. More often than not he escapes to the gardens, running around barefoot and dirtying up his clothes much to the chagrin of the servants and gardeners whose careful work he waltzes right through. The guards always know where to find him and he makes a game out of his attempts to evade them, the garden is big enough that he can keep it up for a while.

One guard is clever and involves the hunting dogs whenever he’s sent to look for Jack, but he’s kind enough to let Jack play with the dogs for a while before escorting him back so Jack can never truly be upset about it.

That’s the only meager bit of freedom and fun he has in this place and it grows more limited by the day. By the time the king thinks he’s ready, he’s dressed in even fancier, stuffier clothes and presented to various important people. Court life is not for him, there’s talk of problems he doesn’t care to understand and so much petty gossiping it puts the villagers of Burgess to shame.

No, court life is stifling and Jack feels like one of the pretty exotic birds the queen keeps in cages with clipped wings.

Since he was taken to the kingdom, he’s never had a decent night’s sleep. His bed never feels warm enough no matter the weather and nightmares about all the possible ways Pitch could have been killed disturb his sleep. Most nights he spends staring out at the night sky, trying to recall what flying feels like and longing for it until his heart aches. His time with Pitch is starting to feel as if it was nothing but a fanciful dream. He almost starts believing it too when he has nothing to show for it as his magic never works.

That changes unexpectedly one morning.

 

* * *

 

It’s the usual boring routine where he has to sit by the king’s side as he receives people in the morning. Citizens with problems, people from other kingdoms seeking refuge, nobles with disputes, merchants bringing wares. Every day it’s just small variations of the same thing and it’s incredibly _boring_. Jack lounges in the chair, ignoring the disapproving looks shot his way for his poor posture as he stares at the wall in the opposite direction. He’s supposed to be paying attention and he never does, entertaining himself with daydreams of flying and magic instead.

Sudden murmurs draw him out of his daydreaming and he glances over to see what’s causing a stir among the audience. A tall figure clad in black armour has stepped into the room with an air that instantly commands respect. A knight. No doubt coming to swear his allegiance to the king. Although those don’t appear as often, it’s still nothing new and Jack loses interest despite the figure’s unusual appearance.

He returns to staring at the wall, already slipping back into his daydream while he hears the knight removing his helmet and get down on one knee.

“I’ve come to swear my loyalty to Prince Jack.”

Jack startles, his head sharply turning to look at the knight again. From the corner of his eye, he can see the king and queen looking at him, probably just as surprised as him. It’s not just the words that surprise him, it’s the voice that speaks them as well. Its smoothness is familiar, only there’s something really off about it, as if it lacks a certain depth. Jack doesn’t understand why that is until his eyes meet the knight’s.

Golden eyes containing fire gaze back at him and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, Jack laughs. A sound that’s unrestrained and free and he cares not for the way the entire court stares at him. He gets to his feet.

“I accept.”

It’s as if the fire in those eyes kindles a spark inside himself he thought lost. A spark that quickly turns into a wildfire that consumes him. The hope that blossoms is so sudden and strong that it hurts.

The knight smiles and inclines his head though his eyes remain locked with Jack’s.

Behind him, Jack can hear the king cough uncertainly.

“Very well then … escort him to the training area.”

It takes a tremendous deal of effort to contain his excitement and sit back down as the black knight is escorted out of the room, the king still giving him questioning glances that Jack doesn’t acknowledge.

It doesn’t get better throughout the day, he’s not given the chance to sneak off to the training area. He’s jostled from lessons to meetings to meals, puzzling every one of the instructors and servants with his sudden impatient exuberance. When the king questions him during dinner, he denies knowing the knight at all. He’s not sure if the king believes him or not. Whatever the case, apparently the knight has shown such promise during training that the king is deeply impressed.

So when Jack asks for the knight to be made his personal guard, there’s some baffled protest from the king at first. It’s not what knights are for is what he’s told and Jack persists until the king gives in, too befuddled at Jack’s sudden enthusiasm.

“I’ll send him up to stand guard tonight then.”

If the day had felt painfully slow, the evening passes even more excruciatingly so. By the time Jack makes it back to his chambers, all ready for bed, he’s a ball of raw uncontained energy. He paces and practically bounces through the room with how often he sits down and then gets back up again. His wait is finally over when there are voices outside his door, the sound of clanking footsteps indicating that his guards are leaving and then a knock.

Jack all but flings the door open, the knight calmly standing there dressed in a sleek black tunic instead of the armour he arrived in, sword dangling from his side.

“You called for me.”

There’s a smirk on the man’s face that’s as familiar as his own reflection and a knowing glint in those golden eyes that Jack would recognise anywhere. Jack steps aside, letting the knight in and closing the door behind him.

Once in the privacy of his room, Jack whirls around and on impulse he reaches up to cup the man’s face in his hands. The ashen-looking skin feels soft under his fingers. It’s not the texture of scales he’s grown so fond of, but there’s an impossible warmth radiating from the man that’s unmistakable.

“ _Pitch._ ”

His voice is choked with the multitude of overwhelming emotions that well up as Pitch nods in confirmation. He feels his heart is going to burst with happiness right there and if it does, at least he’ll die happy. Somehow that doesn’t happen, it stays contained and Jack is left giddy and exhilarated as though he’s just been flying.

On another impulse, he stands on tip-toe and leans in. He can feel Pitch stiffen as he presses their lips together and the confused expression on the dragon-turned-human's face is entirely expected when Jack pulls back again. He can't help but giggle, somewhat delirious in his happiness still, and is further endeared by the way Pitch tilts his head to one side.

“What was that?”

“It's how humans show affection. You know, kind of like in those fairy tales?”

Pitch looks thoughtful for a moment before he leans forward and Jack finds himself smiling into a kiss.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispers against too warm lips before slipping his arms around Pitch’s neck and burying his face against Pitch’s shoulder when the kiss is broken, breathing in the scent of him. Smoke and ashes, he still smells the same to Jack’s delight. He missed and longed for that smell for more times than he could count. Hearthfires just don’t smell the same.

“As if I would let them take what’s mine.”

Jack lets out a watery laugh that tapers off into a pained noise, his hold tightening. Pitch responds by clutching him possessively in what could be considered an embrace.

“They said they killed you.”

Pitch hums as though pleased with himself.

“That’s what I wanted them to believe.”

Jack frowns and wills himself to pull away so he can look at Pitch’s face.

“How … ?”

“Illusionary magic isn’t that difficult. I bet even you could do it.”

Jack isn’t sure whether to take that as an insult or not so he decides to pass the last statement over. He’s starting to feel weirdly dizzy with the onslaught of emotions and revelations and has to move away to sit down on the bed, tugging Pitch with him. He makes Pitch sit down first so he can sit sideways on his lap, leaning against Pitch’s chest and soaking in his warmth.

Pitch allows it without comment like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Considering how often he’s clambered all over Pitch as a dragon, it probably is to him. Still, it feels a little weird with Pitch like this.

“How come you’re human?”

“You’ve seen me change size countless times and yet you think me changing form is strange?”

“Well, when you put it like that, I guess not. It’s just— hey wait, the castle is warded against magic!”

Jack lifts his head from where he was resting it on Pitch’s shoulder, fixing him with an incredulous look.

“Indeed it is.” Pitch has an expression on his face that makes it look like he swallowed something particularly nasty. “I had to seal myself and my magic inside this form. Unfortunately it also means I can’t leave until the wards have been taken down.”

“ _What?_ What kind of rescue plan is _that_?”

“One that will work.” Pitch says it with such calm certainty and confidence that Jack can’t help but believe him.

He falls silent for a moment, letting the information sink in and thinking it over while simultaneously basking in the joy of having Pitch’s presence returned to his side. It occurs to him that it’s strange for Pitch to go about it this way. Knowing Pitch, he can more easily imagine him swooping down on the castle and destroying it in a temper tantrum while he still has surprise on his side. The king’s army wouldn’t even have time to respond.

“Why come for me this way?”

“What better way to rub it in than by stealing you right from under their noses? They did the same to me.”

That still doesn’t make sense to him, Pitch could do the same if he was an angry dragon. Unless …

“... It’s a game.”

“Yes.”

Jack snorts, shaking his head in exasperation. Pitch cuts him off before he can reply.

“That, and King Frost is no fool. He possesses powerful magic and this castle is guarded better than you might think.”

“He does? He always seems so … I don’t know, harmless? For a king.”

“Where do you think you got your potential from? His family has been hiding it for centuries otherwise the people would never allow the Frost family to keep the throne. Surely you’ve heard of the witch hunts before?”

“Huh.” Jack turns the new knowledge over in his head, feeling slightly silly he never thought to have suspicions. “How do you know this?”

“I’ve been around for a very, very long time, Jack.”

Jack stares at Pitch with newfound awe before he settles back against him, taking one of Pitch’s hands and playing with it the same way he would trace Pitch’s scales with his fingers. It always had a calming effect and it still does even if it’s no longer a scale. It’s _Pitch_ and that’s enough to make Jack feel safe and guarded.

He idly notes that Pitch has long, graceful fingers. They’re not at all the hands of a knight, they’re much more like that of a scholar. A realisation strikes him then.

“You know, you make a pretty handsome human.”

“Of course I do.”

Same deadpan matter-of-fact tone as always, Pitch doesn’t even sound smug though he does lift his head and Jack can very clearly picture in his mind a dragon stretching out his neck proudly and looking elegant doing so. As a human, Pitch just looks haughty and it’s kind of hilarious. He tries to stifle a laugh and fails, making Pitch frown down at him.

“What?”

“No, nothing. You’re right.”

Pitch doesn’t look convinced. He’s quickly placated when Jack shifts to face him and press their foreheads together.

“I missed you.”

Pitch hums in acknowledgement and Jack breathes in the air he breathes out. For a good moment, he feels perfectly at peace.

“I can’t wait to go home.”

“Ah, about that … ”

The way Pitch says that shatters the peace, making Jack pull back in alarm.

“What?”

“It burned down.”

“But … but your books!”

“Most of them are saved, but not all. I really should make them pay for what they’ve done.”

With how Pitch’s face darkens and his voice takes on a sinister tone, Jack has no doubt that Pitch would do it.

“ _No._ Don’t do that. It’s not— it’s not worth it.”

Pitch narrows his eyes at him and Jack takes his face between his hands again, shaking his own head earnestly.

“Please, just leave it. They’re not … they’re not bad people, they mean well. We’ll find a new place, somewhere very far away from here, and we’ll get new books.”

He stares unflinchingly into Pitch’s steely gaze, more stubborn than pleading until his expression turns mischievous.

“We could steal books from King Frost?”

Pitch huffs and Jack knows instantly that the dragon is relenting despite what Pitch says.

“We’ll see.”

Jack grins, satisfied with that answer for now. Sudden tiredness after the emotional rollercoaster of the day hits him and he gets off Pitch to slip under the covers, motioning for Pitch to join him.

“Am I not supposed to be standing outside, guarding your door?”

“Yeah, but I want you in here. Prince’s orders.”

His cheeky grin is met with a raised eyebrow, the amusement clear on Pitch’s face.

“Then I better do what the prince says.”

Pitch puts his sword aside before lying down next to Jack and Jack doesn’t hesitate for even a second snuggling up against him. It’s not the same. Pitch is a lot more bony as a human, but the warmth and his scent is how it should be. Besides, the arms that wrap around him instead of the usual wings make for a pretty good substitute.

Another belated thought occurs to him as his fingers find and trace a collarbone.

“... Did you know? About me being related to the king?”

“I had my suspicions.”

“Sure you did. You _knew._ Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Would it have mattered or changed anything if I did?”

“ … No, I guess not. ”

Even though he’s been in the castle a while, it still feels weird to think he’s royalty. Frost isn’t that uncommon a last name and Burgess is so far away from this kingdom that he’d never heard of a King Frost either. He has to wonder if his mother adopted the name and added it to her own. It seems likely.

Not that it matters.

Jack has no intention of being royalty or going back to Burgess. He has Pitch, alive and well and right here with him, and that’s all he needs. They’ll make it out. His fingers curl into the fabric of Pitch’s tunic, his face pressed in the crook of Pitch’s neck, and he speaks in a hushed voice after a moment of silence.

“Will it be hard? Getting out of here?”

“Breaking the wards won’t be difficult at all. It’s finding them that will be a problem.”

“What do they look like?”

“I don’t know, they could be anything. Likely they will be worked into the architecture of this castle.”

“Well, that’s helpful.” Jack frowns, already feeling the start of worry until Pitch squeezes him gently.

“Sleep. We’ll search tomorrow.”

Somewhat mollified, he closes his eyes and he’s further ushered into sleep by Pitch humming a soft melody.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes, his bed is empty and for a horrible second Jack thinks it all might have been a dream. But the sheets smell distinctly of fire and ashes so it can’t have been. When there’s a knock at the door and Jack calls out, it’s Pitch who opens the door (apparently having taken on his guard duty some time during the night) to let in a maid with a tray of breakfast.

It takes effort not to grin like an idiot in front of the maid and he hastily accepts the tray from her. When she offers to dress him, as the maids always do even though he never lets them, he shakes his head and a mischievous thought occurs to him.

“He’ll do it,” he says, nodding at Pitch.

The maid splutters, glancing between him and Pitch with wide eyes and incomprehension.

“Sir Black? But he’s ...”

Pitch gives him a _look_ that’s easy to distinguish on a human’s face before turning to the maid, inclining his head graciously.

“It’s fine, allow me.”

The maid, going an interesting shade of pink, nods quickly and hurriedly leaves the room. Pitch steps inside and Jack waits until he’s closed the door behind him and the sounds of the maid’s footsteps have faded before snickering.

Pitch looks at him with an expression that’s somehow unimpressed and amused all at once.

“I’m a knight, not your personal servant.”

“You can be both,” Jack says innocently with a grin that is anything but, holding out a piece of bread and cheese as a peace offering.

Pitch takes it, sitting down on the bed casually.

Jack takes the moment to watch Pitch while he eats. The way Pitch moves is just as graceful and smooth as when he’s a dragon. He positions his long limbs with such ease that Jack can’t help but be curious ...

“Do you take on this form a lot?”

Pitch wrinkles his nose at him as Jack speaks with his mouth full, not answering until Jack has swallowed and offered a sheepish smile with a quickly muttered ‘sorry’.

“Naturally. It makes reading a lot easier.”

“Then how come I’ve never seen you this way before?”

Pitch shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, ignoring how Jack’s squinting suspiciously at him.

Jack huffs and shoves the last of his breakfast in his mouth before setting the tray aside and moving over to where his clothes have been laid out for him the previous afternoon. Another stuffy outfit, surprise, surprise.

He strips out of his nightshirt and he’s just putting on the new shirt when Pitch speaks up behind him.

“Didn’t you want me to do that?”

“I was joking,” Jack says with a little grin, sparing Pitch an amused glance over his shoulder to see Pitch raising an eyebrow at him.

Although really, Jack isn’t so much dressing himself as getting into a fight with the elaborate buttons and it doesn’t take Pitch long to notice that.

He can hear Pitch snort and get to his feet and that’s the only warning he gets before he’s suddenly spun around, Pitch pulling his hands away to replace them with his own.

Jack instantly makes a noise of protest.

“I can dress myself!”

“Clearly you can’t.”

Whatever indignant response he might have had to that gets cut off as impossibly warm fingers brush along his skin while Pitch buttons his shirt, shutting him right up. Instead of words, a soft sigh escapes him and Jack ends up relenting.

Pitch dresses him more swiftly and efficiently than he could have managed on his own. Not to mention the end result is definitely neater. Maybe he should be embarrassed about that, but he hardly cares and Pitch doesn’t seem to mind. The look of approval he gives Jack when he’s finished is totally worth it.

“Not a personal servant, huh?” Jack can’t resist prodding cheekily.

“Shut up.” Pitch’s tone lacks any real bite and the banter only makes Jack smile wider.

He admires Pitch’s work in the mirror for a moment and then turns to him, growing a bit more serious.

“So, those wards … ”

“I’ll try looking for them whenever I have the chance.”

“Isn’t there a way to recognise them? Maybe I can keep an eye out. ”

Pitch considers it for a few seconds and then shakes his head, making Jack’s shoulders sag in disappointment.

“When I find the first I’ll point it out to you.”

“Alright … ”

There’s a knock on the door and the usual servant pokes his head through the door to fetch Jack for his lessons and with a message for Pitch to join the knights for training. It’s with great reluctance that Jack parts with Pitch to follow after the servant. At least life in the castle is looking up now that it has Pitch’s presence in it. Jack takes solace in that fact.

 

* * *

 

Both of them are kept too busy during the day to see much of each other beyond glances shared in corridors. It’s frustrating and although Jack tries to get away from boring lessons and meetings as much as possible, getting to the training area unseen is harder than escaping to the gardens. Plus he has to try and not draw too much attention to Pitch, lest people get suspicious so eventually he stops trying.

His longing to be near Pitch is eased at night when he comes to stand guard anyway. Although ‘stand guard’ really is synonymous for curling up in bed together and talking in hushed voices until Jack falls asleep and Pitch dozes with him before taking up his post in the early hours of dawn. Jack grows more affectionate with Pitch during those nights without meaning to, stealing kisses more often, though it’s not his fault that Pitch tolerates it and never seems bothered.

With how busy they are, there isn’t much time to look for the wards and in the few days that pass, Pitch hasn’t found anything yet to both their frustrations.

It leaves Jack restless and antsy, growing increasingly more mischievous as a way to vent his frustration. Usually Pitch is the target. Like how one morning when he’s in the mood for being difficult, he does his best to distract Pitch with kisses while Pitch dresses him. Pitch isn’t even fazed, occasionally even pressing into the kisses to keep Jack still. It’s how Pitch discovers pretending to be unperturbed is the best way to deal with Jack’s antics so he grows bored and bothers the servants instead.

By doing so Jack actually comes to befriend a few of them, Ingrid included. She’s always willing to hide Jack whenever he’s managed an escape from his duties and that’s why he likes her best. She’s also annoyingly perceptive as it turns out when he’s hanging out with her one afternoon in a corridor.

Pitch passes by and they share (what Jack thinks to be) a subtle glance and smile.

“Quite a handsome one, isn’t he?” Ingrid comments casually after Pitch has passed.

“Yeah … ” Jack replies distractedly, still staring after Pitch, before realising what the question actually was.

“Uh, I mean, if that’s your sort of thing.” He hastily corrects himself though it’s too late. Ingrid is raising an eyebrow at him pointedly, a knowing glint in her eyes. Jack coughs and looks away, apparently prompting Ingrid to continue in a far too casual manner considering what she’s implying.

“He’s handsome and a knight. It would be kind of like the fairy tales, wouldn’t it?”

_Oh, if only she knew._

 

* * *

 

An opportunity to see Pitch during the day unexpectedly presents itself when the next week one of his teachers falls ill and Jack is allowed to wander freely in the castle. Naturally, he makes a beeline for the training area. Making it just in time to see Pitch spar with one of the king’s men.

He seats himself on a bench unobtrusively, watching in fascination. The king’s enthusiasm about Pitch becomes apparent very quickly. He moves fluidly, using his lithe form to dodge and weave expertly. It’s almost as if he’s dancing rather than fighting. Jack is so entranced that he doesn’t notice someone coming to stand behind him until a voice speaks up.

“Excellent, isn’t he?”

Jack startles, glancing over his shoulder to see King Frost behind him, his gaze on Pitch and a pleased smile on his face.

“He is,” Jack agrees, his eyes drawn back to the grounds at the sound of a dull thud. Pitch has thrown his opponent to the ground. When Pitch lifts his head, finally noticing him, Jack shoots him a wide grin. Pitch’s eyes don’t linger on him long, but there’s a slight lift of his lips that tell Jack enough.

“You know, I think it’s about time you learned sword fighting too.”

Jack swivels around to face King Frost so fast he bumps his knees against the bench in his surprise.

“Really?”

“I’ve been meaning to bring it up. What do you say? I’m certain Sir Black could teach you a great many things.”

“Yes!” Jack jumps to his feet, his heart leaping with joy as he nods eagerly. Any chance to have more time with Pitch is a chance he’ll take.

For a moment the king is taken aback by his strong reaction, then he chuckles.

“Very well.”

He motions for Jack to stay put as he steps around the bench and walks towards the knights, calling Pitch over. Jack is bouncing in his excitement, observing how the king speaks to Pitch and Pitch eventually nods. He has to force himself to be still when the king turns around and moves back to him, Pitch at his heels.

“Come along then.”

Jack and Pitch share a look behind the king’s back and they follow him as they are led into a spacious room that seems to function as an indoor training area.

“You can train here with your knight every afternoon before dinner.”

Jack says his thanks and after the king has left, he turns to Pitch grinning like a lunatic.

“This is great!”

“Very convenient,” Pitch says with a smug smile before walking away to fetch two wooden swords.

Jack struggles out of his fancy jacket and takes off his boots, leaving him in only his trousers and a loose dress shirt.

“So, anything on the wards yet?”

Jack is expecting the usual answer containing some form of ‘no’ when Pitch surprises him.

“I might have found one.”

“What, _really?_ ”

Jack fumbles to catch the wooden sword Pitch tosses him, nearly dropping it on his bare toes.

“I’ll have to confirm it later.”

“Can’t we go now?” Jack twirls the wooden sword, suddenly impatient.

“Not unless you want us to look very suspicious. Besides, I’m here to give you sword fighting lessons, remember?”

Before Jack can protest, Pitch holds up a hand to silence him.

“You’ll find these lessons much more enjoyable than your other lessons.”

There’s a challenge in Pitch’s eyes and Jack can’t resist a good challenge. Pitch knows that, the sneaky bastard.

“You think so, huh?”

“I know so.”

Jack doesn’t actually disagree. He’ll like them by virtue of having Pitch as a teacher and the fact that he gets to move around. If it’s anything like how Pitch taught him hunting, it will be _fun_.

Pitch starts with teaching him proper stances and the various ways of swinging a sword. It would be rather boring if Jack wasn’t so distracted by how touchy Pitch gets. He positions Jack’s limbs like a puppet, occasionally pressing flush against Jack’s back to direct a swing so Jack can feel how it’s supposed to go. Rather than concentrate on the feeling of a swing done right, Jack can only think of the heat of Pitch’s body against his own. Considering they curl up together at night, he doesn’t understand why that makes it so hard to focus now.

Despite his poor concentration he somehow manages to get the stances and swings down enough for Pitch to be satisfied and then the fun part begins: putting it all into practice. He’s not confident at doing so at all, but once they start circling each other his trepidation melts away to be replaced by the same kind of thrill a good hunt gives him.

He has no hope of matching Pitch’s grace and the way every step he takes is calculated and precise, Jack can only try to keep up. His first attempted strike is easily blocked, the second deflected and by the third his wooden sword is knocked right out of his hand and Pitch has his pressed against Jack’s throat a second later.

To Jack’s aggravation, it becomes increasingly obvious he has no hopes of besting or even matching Pitch the more he tries. Perhaps that’s a given as he’s never held a sword before in his life, it’s still rather disheartening when Pitch doesn’t even break a sweat. He makes it all look so effortless and it’s not fair.

Which is why, after the umpteenth time Pitch shrugs off his advances, Jack decides to abandon the rules Pitch has set if only to get the better of him just once. He pretends to charge forward for an attack and halfway there, he throws his wooden sword at Pitch. Pitch is too surprised and busy deflecting it to the side (leaving himself wide-open) that he has no time to react when Jack continues his charge. He pounces, much like a fox attacking prey, and he brings Pitch down beautifully with him. Pitch’s sword goes clattering and for a triumphant moment Jack thinks he’s got the upper hand at last, savouring the brief startled look on the former dragon’s face, up until he realises there’s a foot on his stomach and next thing he knows he’s thrown off when Pitch rolls backwards and uses the momentum to kick Jack off.

He cushions his fall as best as he can by rolling, ending up on all fours as he glances over to his opponent. Pitch is halfway through rising to his feet. Jack doesn’t bother, getting up would take too much time, and he leaps with expert use of all four limbs to take Pitch down again.

With surprise no longer on his side, Pitch is a bit more prepared even though Jack succeeds. A tussle ensues that has them both rolling around on the ground, trying to gain the upper hand. It’s Pitch who eventually manages to be victorious, straddling Jack’s stomach and pinning his hands above his head.

For a single moment they stare at each other and Jack is pleased to notice that Pitch is breathing almost as hard as he is and finally looking ruffled after all that rolling around.

“That is _not_ swordfighting.”

Pitch tries to sound stern and fails, the predatory gleam in his eyes and the upturned corners of his mouth ruin the attempt entirely and Jack doesn’t buy it for one second that Pitch didn’t enjoy himself.

“No, but it’s fun.”

Jack replies with a wicked grin on his face, squirming in Pitch’s hold. Pitch only tightens his grip, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he bares his teeth in a grin that is far more wicked than anything Jack can pull off. It sends a thrill down Jack’s spine and a heat pools low in his stomach that has absolutely nothing to do with Pitch’s unusual body temperature. That’s when Jack suddenly realises how ridiculously turned on he is and ceases struggling. Pitch stays put a while longer (too long in Jack’s addled mind) as if to ascertain the genuinity of Jack’s submission before getting off him.

Jack scrambles to grab his jacket and hide the growing bulge in his trousers, glad that the flush on his face can be chalked up to all the physical exertion. Pitch watches him with an amused expression and Jack quickly excuses himself for dinner.

He desperately wants to go to his room to calm down and sort out his chaotic thoughts first, but as he walks down the hall he meets a servant that’s been sent to fetch him and he has no choice but to go straight to dinner.

 

* * *

 

 

To say dinner turns out an awkward affair would be putting it mildly. It doesn’t help that the king keeps enthusiastically asking how training went, grilling him about the details of stances and particular swings of the sword. It takes great effort not to writhe in his seat in discomfort, his arousal still persisting, and the queen keeps sending him dirty looks for his curt and halting answers that make the whole situation all the more uncomfortable. When dinner is over and he’s dismissed, Jack all but bolts to his room.

Shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his boots, he sinks down onto the bed feeling confused and restless in his own skin. It _has_ to be the rush of the fight, he decides. That conclusion brings him some peace of mind though it does nothing to ease his predicament. His hand wandering down and squeezing himself through his trousers does. Jack glances furtively at the door as he lets out a shuddering sigh.

The servants don’t tend to bother him after dinner and it will be a while longer before Pitch gets back. He has time. It’s been a very long while since he last touched himself anyway. When he lived with his family, his sister had a penchant of sneaking into his bed and he hardly ever had private time because of it. When he was at Pitch’s castle, he’d been too miserable at first and then later Pitch was always by his side so again he had no privacy.

Now he’s alone and … well, in the mood. He might as well take advantage of that.

With his mind made up, he strips out of his trousers and undergarments and slips under the sheets. The brush of luxurious fabric against his bare skin is enough to make him shiver. It really has been too long.

Jack rolls onto his side, back to the door, as he wraps his fingers around himself, his breath hitching at the action. As he begins stroking himself, unbidden images of ashen skin and long, graceful fingers creep into his thoughts. Try as he might to think of something — _anything_ — else, his mind keeps looping back to Pitch and eventually it becomes too frustrating so Jack gives in. He closes his eyes and thinks of Pitch’s lithe frame, his lean muscles and he breathes in the smell of smoke and ashes that’s still faintly lingering on the bed. The moan that escapes past his lips is embarrassingly loud and he moves his hips without realising it, rutting into his hand.

That’s the exact moment the door opens.

“Jack?”

Pitch’s voice. Jack freezes in place, going rigid and still. The hysterical thought of _’but Pitch always knocks!’_ flits through his mind before he blanks out entirely. His erection throbs painfully and Jack tries to subtly squeeze himself in an attempt to ease it, drawing out an involuntary whimper that instantly catches Pitch’s attention.

“Are you hurt?”

He can practically hear the frown in Pitch’s voice, a note of panicky concern to it. Jack doesn’t trust his voice even if he could find it so he vehemently shakes his head. There’s the sound of the door closing and Pitch’s hasty footsteps drawing closer. Jack hurriedly looks over his shoulder, opening his mouth to stop Pitch when it’s already too late. With one swift movement Pitch has pulled the sheets away, exposing Jack with cock in hand.

It has to be the most mortifying moment of his life. He can see Pitch’s frown deepen, confusion written all over his face and Jack has to look away from those intense, scrutinizing golden eyes, squeezing his own shut as he flushes in embarrassment.

“I’m not— it doesn’t hurt … it feels really good, actually.”

The almost hysterical words spoken in a tight voice are accompanied by an equally hysterical little laugh. He should probably ask Pitch to leave or something.

He’s about to do so or at least say something else when the bed dips under Pitch’s added weight. Jack’s eyes fly open just as a too warm hand skims along his hip, stealing the words and his breath away. He wants to question Pitch, but lacks the air and coherency to do so.

“Does it?”

It takes Jack a moment to realise that it’s a question in response to his previous statement and he can only nod. Pitch’s hand dips lower, fingers brushing against his own still wrapped around himself. Pitch settles behind him and Jack finds his back pressed against Pitch’s chest, heat suddenly enveloping him. He’s too stunned to react and Pitch eases his hand away only to replace it with his. His touch is searing and Jack _keens_ , hips snapping up before he can stop himself to his further embarrassment.

Pitch’s mouth is near his ear, saying something soothing that Jack can’t catch in the haze of heat and pleasure, but he understands the intention behind the words and it makes him relax minutely. Pitch’s hand moves along his shaft and Jack feels as though he swallowed a live fish that’s now flopping around in his stomach. His heart is beating so hard and fast, it’s like his whole body is pulsating. He can only gasp and writhe, desperately seeking more friction that Pitch soon grants him.

He can’t believe this is happening. Maybe he’s still fantasizing.

Only there’s no way this is just in his mind. It’s all too intense. The heat, the sensations coursing through his body brought on by Pitch’s touch, the heady smell of fire overwhelming him. Pitch whispers his name in his ear in a low tone and it sends Jack right over the edge, his world turning hot and white. He turns his head just as he comes, his strangled cry muffled into the pillow. Pitch strokes him through his orgasm until Jack can no longer take the heat of those fingers feeling like they’re branding him and begs him to stop.

Pitch does, though he stays close and pressed against Jack’s back. It’s far too warm, but Jack doesn’t have the heart or coherency to ask Pitch for some distance. He’s left trembling and limp after all that intensity, little aftershocks wracking through his body. It’s not until he finally stops trembling and gets his breathing back under control that Pitch moves away. He can hear him sit up and with some effort to get his limbs to obey him again, Jack rolls onto his back so he can look at Pitch.

Pitch is primly licking his fingers clean, making Jack bite his bottom lip and groan at the wave of arousal the sight causes way too soon. The sound draws Pitch’s eye and they lock gazes, Pitch looking smug.

Jack finally finds his voice again, husky though it is.

“What was that for?”

“You said it felt good,” Pitch replies nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders. Jack is too dazed to continue pressing for a more proper answer. Something else occurs to him that distracts him.

“Uh, do you want … ”

“What?”

Jack has no idea how to put his offer to return the favour into coherent words so he motions to Pitch’s crotch. Realisation dawns on Pitch’s face and in the next beat he’s wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“No.”

As glad as Jack is for that answer because he doesn’t think his body will stop feeling like jelly any time soon, it also puzzles him greatly.

“... Why not?”

“It’s too messy.”

Jack stares for a good few seconds before he bursts out laughing, garnering a frown from Pitch.

“You’re so weird,” he manages between wheezing gasps for air. The words turn Pitch’s frown into an offended look and he makes to get up. Jack doesn’t let him. He crawls onto Pitch and pushes him back down.

“But that’s why you’re so great,” Jack adds with a lazy smile. It’s apparently enough to placate Pitch because although he grumbles, he doesn’t resist as Jack makes himself comfortable on top of him. There’s a great sense of contentment coming over him, further enforced when Pitch moves his hand through his hair idly. It’s briefly silent, a peaceful moment, until Pitch speaks.

“I found a ward.”

Jack’s head shoots up from where he was resting it on his folded hands on Pitch’s chest, eyes widening.

“And you tell me _now_?”

“You seemed a little … preoccupied before.”

Jack can feel heat rushing to his cheeks and he gives Pitch a half-hearted glare that’s met by a smug grin. He sits up slowly, excitement rising at the prospect of being one step closer to freedom.

“So what now?”

“Now you need take a bath.”

Jack splutters indignantly and Pitch interrupts before he can voice his protest.

“We’ll have to find them all before breaking them, there will be four in total. There’s nothing we can do right now.”

“Oh.” Jack deflates, shoulders sinking in disappointment. Pitch reaches up, placing a hand against his cheek that Jack automatically leans into.

“It’s a good start. I can show you what it looks like tomorrow.”

Jack nods, the excitement having passed and leaving him more sluggish than before. He’d go right back to lying on top of Pitch if it weren’t for Pitch ushering him off and insisting he take a bath.

Jack reluctantly does as he’s told though once he’s soaking in the water, his reluctance disappears. It gives him some time to just relax and clear his head of the thoughts of his attraction to Pitch’s human form and the implications of said attraction when Pitch obviously doesn’t desire him the same way. Only when he nearly dozes off does he get out of the water and change into his night clothes.

Wandering back into his bedroom, he finds that Pitch has changed the sheets and slipped into fresh clothes himself. There’s a pang of fondness so strong that it hurts his heart and Jack feels compelled to give Pitch a long, lingering kiss before they resume their more usual nighttime routine.

 

* * *

 

The next day they slip away to the garden during Jack’s supposed sword training so Pitch can show him the ward he found. Jack instantly understands what Pitch meant when he said it would be woven into the architecture. The one Pitch found is a gargoyle statue, standing next to an identical twin. The difference between them that marks the ward is so subtle it could be easily missed. Both gargoyles have an intricate pattern on the base, symbols woven into it, and Jack doesn’t see it until Pitch tells him to keep looking. The longer he stares, the more the air around one gargoyle seems to shift, one symbol seeming to come into focus. It’s like looking into the distance on a hot summer’s day.

Or the shimmer of an invisible wall.

He knows what to look for now.

Much to the frustration of his instructors, Jack is more distracted than ever as he spends his lessons glancing around for wards or escaping to look for them. Pitch doesn’t get to come everywhere so Jack keeps an extra eye out in those places. Unfortunately he’s not very successful, unlike Pitch.

Now that Pitch has a sense of what to look for, he finds two more wards within the week. Freedom is so close Jack can taste it. However, the last one is proving hard to find and it turns them both tetchy and restless, even going out at night to look until Ingrid catches them one time with a knowing look in her eyes that makes Jack blush. His secret is safe with her, she assures him with a suggestive look Pitch’s way and Jack can’t even deny her implications when Pitch gives him pleasure whenever he asks for it (which is an increasingly more frequent thing once Jack learns not be ashamed and with their frustrations running high) though Pitch never wants reciprocation.

They don’t go out at night again after that, lest someone more talkative catches them and starts spreading rumours that might potentially lead to them being separated.

Still, all their attention and focus is on finding the last ward even though their hope is being worn down over time. Jack’s instructors even tell the king of his constant wayward mind and his sword fighting lessons are threatened to be put on hold if Jack doesn’t focus on his lessons.

Jack’s forced to pay attention to his instructors after that, not wanting his time with Pitch to be cut down. Or at least as much as he can pay attention. Most of the time he’s staring off in the distance, but that’s behaviour his instructors are used to and they don’t comment on it as much when he can recite what they last said to him just fine despite his daydreaming.

His least favourite lessons have to be the ones about the kingdom’s history. His instructor is a fuddy-duddy old man with a monotone voice that makes it extra hard to pay attention. At least those lessons are given in the library, a place that gives Jack some comfort because it reminds him of Pitch’s castle. He’s stuck in one of those lessons when he notices something he’s never noticed before.

His eyes are roaming along the top of the giant bookcases, following the patterns carved into the wood in a desperate attempt to keep himself awake and occupied while the instructor’s voice drones on and on. Just as his eyes grow too heavy to keep open, something shimmers in his peripheral vision. Jack’s promptly wide-awake, gaze darting to the spot. He has to blink hard a few times to shake off his drowsiness and make sure it wasn’t his imagination.

He stares hard, breath caught in his chest.

It shimmers again.

Jack nearly explodes with excitement right there.

“Jack?”

Mentally marking the spot, he looks back to the puzzled face of his instructor.

“What? Uh, sorry … I didn’t sleep so well last night.”

His instructor sighs, shaking his head, but apparently believing the lie because he lets Jack go early after five more minutes. Jack keeps his run to the training area contained to a very brisk walk.

He arrives before Pitch and waiting for him is agony though in the end it’s worth it. The moment Pitch steps through the door, Jack launches himself at him. His arms go around Pitch’s neck as Pitch catches him around the waist, blinking down at him in amused puzzlement.

“I found it! I found it!”

His voice is hushed in his breathless excitement and it’s amazing to watch Pitch’s expression transform from confusion to exhilaration. His eyes seem to glow with the intensity of the blazing sun. For the first time ever, Pitch initiates a kiss and Jack can only laugh helplessly into it.

When Pitch pulls back and sets Jack down, there’s conspiratorial glee written all over his features.

“We move tonight.”

 

* * *

 

That evening it’s a chaotic bustle in Jack’s room as he busies himself with packing provisions and changing into his least stuffiest outfit. Staying still is impossible even though getting some rest is the wisest course of action. Likely he’ll need it. Unfortunately sleep is the furthest thing from his mind, too hyped up on excitement and nervous energy that spills out into restless pacing. He checks and rechecks everything despite it being utterly unnecessary, he’s only bringing food and he grabbed a sack to fill with whatever books Pitch might want to take from the library. As long as he keeps his hands busy, it’s easier to wait for Pitch to arrive.

The familiar knock on the door comes as a relief and Jack hastily lets Pitch inside. Pitch too has changed into a light outfit that’s easy to move in and they exchange tight smiles when they lay eyes on each other.

“Here.”

Pitch hands him a dagger that Jack eyes a little apprehensively. Pitch seems to notice.

“Just in case,” he says.

“Uh-huh, not at all because you still would like revenge.”

“I admit it is very tempting,” Pitch muses, eyes shining.

“ _Pitch._ ”

“Fine, fine. Whatever the prince wishes.” Pitch rolls his eyes in exasperation, moving to check out the stuff Jack has gathered. “However, I can’t make any promises if they come after us.”

Jack can’t really argue with that and he bites his lip in indecision before an idea strikes him. He rushes over to his desk, writing a quick note to Ingrid expressing his gratitude and another to King Frost doing the same and adding both an apology and a warning that if he tries looking for him, terrible things could befall the kingdom. Pitch, who at some point had come over to glance over Jack’s shoulder, makes an approving noise at that.

He tucks the dagger into his belt, slings the bag with food over his shoulder and holds the sack in one hand before declaring:

“I’m ready.”

Pitch looks at him thoughtfully and then nods, moving to the door and slipping out the room. Jack takes one last look at his room with an odd, nostalgic pang of sadness before he resolutely shuts the door behind him. He follows Pitch swiftly and silently as Pitch takes the least-guarded paths, having memorised the guards’ routines. He’s led to the garden first where Pitch explains in soft whispers that the wards correspond to north, east, south and west.

“Are they hard to destroy?”

“Not at all.” Pitch says with the kind of grin that makes Jack’s stomach clench and he motions for Jack to hand over his dagger. Jack does, watching in fascination as Pitch crouches by the gargoyle and carves a line through the pattern. Then he rises to his feet again.

“... That’s it?”

“Yes.”

Talk about anticlimactic. Although it’s a good thing what with having to sneak all over the castle unseen. That’s going to be a challenge by itself. Pitch doesn’t waste time moving on to the next target.

Getting into the throne room at night is surprisingly easy. There’s no one around and the family jewels are locked away in another room, leaving it scarcely guarded. They get in with no problem and it’s with mischievous glee that Jack gets to carve into the throne while Pitch cringes at the marred beauty. That’s two down and he shrugs the weird tug in his chest off as a jolt of nervous excitement.

Pitch leads him expertly through the shadows to the dungeons next. A place that is going to be a lot more troublesome. There are guards stationed before their goal, quietly talking to each other, and Jack has no idea how to get past them. He’s contemplating possible plans to draw them away when he realises that _he_ is the subject of the guards’ conversation and not in a kindly manner. Although it makes his stomach drop a little, it’s nothing he’s not used to so he does his best to tune it out and go back to planning.

Until he gets distracted by smoke drifting over his shoulder, that is. Startled, he looks behind him only to see Pitch looking furious, smoke coming out of his nostrils on every exhale. Hurriedly he clasps his hands over Pitch’s nose before the guards might notice, hissing quietly.

“ _Calm down._ ”

Pitch glances down at him with narrowed eyes and it dawns on Jack that the only way Pitch could have smoke coming out of his nose, showing a peek of his true self, is through magic and that the tug in his chest hadn’t merely been excitement. Once Pitch calms down, he removes his hands and presses one to the wall. To his utter joy, frost spills from his fingertips when he bids it to. It’s hardly anything, but with his magic bound for so long, it feels wonderful.

Pitch has resumed glaring at the guards so Jack decides to take the reins on this one, pressing his dagger into Pitch’s hand.

“I’ll distract them, you break the ward.”

Before Pitch can protest, Jack darts away and goes back down the hall. He makes sure that Pitch is well hidden in the shadows before letting out a haunting fox scream, knowing exactly how disturbing they can sound. It has the desired effect of drawing out the guards after a moment of squabbling about who goes to check it out first and then deciding to both go together.

Jack sprints away down a smaller corridor, leaving little patches of frost in his wake like a trail of breadcrumbs. He can hear the guards following and he ducks behind some sacks of flour while letting his frost blossom onward down into the cellar. He watches as the guards come hesitantly shuffling past, murmuring to each other in nervous whispers. Once they’re into the cellar, Jack hurries back the way he came from, nearly colliding with Pitch when he rounds the corner.

Three down.

They run as quietly as they can to get to the library, sneaking behind the guards that pace along the long hall to go up the stairs. When they get up to the landing, they’ve gone through the worst of it. Just like the throne room, the library isn’t specifically guarded. That’s what the guards down the stairs are for.

They slip through the door, shutting it quietly behind them and Pitch suddenly goes still when he turns around and sees the library. Apparently he’s never been in here before if the furtive glances are any indication. Jack has to tug his sleeve to get his attention, giving him a pointed look before walking over to where the ward is.

“It’s up there.”

He points, already trying to figure out how to best climb the bookcase when Pitch beats him to it. Pitch unbuckles his sword, pressing it into Jack’s arms and holding the dagger between his teeth before he starts scaling the bookcase as easily as he would climb his mountains of books in his castle.

Jack stares in awe until Pitch stops halfway to squint at the spine of a book. Jack wants to yell at him to hurry up and then Pitch actually grabs the book and glances down at him, holding it out. Jack catches on instantly and with a roll of his eyes, he tucks the sword under one arm and then holds the sack open. Pitch lets go of the book and it drops neatly into the sack. To Jack’s frustration, Pitch repeats the action a few more times before eventually moving on to the ward.

That’s when Jack realises why Pitch took the books first.

The moment Pitch carves through the ward, there’s the tug in his chest again. This time much stronger and definitely noticeable. Somehow it feels like he can breathe more freely after that and he marvels at the feeling as Pitch drops down next to him, taking his sword back.

“Now we run.”

Jack doesn’t hesitate sprinting after Pitch and they dart out of the library and up the stairs into the nearest tower. His chest aches and his legs soon burn with the strenuous exercise of climbing so many stairs in so little time, but Jack doesn’t allow himself to falter. Not when freedom is so close. When they finally reach the top and burst out the door into the moonlight, Jack is so out of breath that he falls to his knees then and there.

The caress of night air against his face cools him down slightly and he watches as Pitch steps forward, silhouetted against the moon and looking unperturbed.

“Keep watch.”

Jack turns around on his knees to glance down the stairs, straining his ears for any sound. The only thing he hears is Pitch’s voice, whispering low in some language Jack doesn’t understand. As much as he wants to turn around and look, he keeps his gaze forward.

Or at least until there’s a sound that strikes a chord in his very soul and he can’t help look behind him. There’s the familiar whistle of wind as giant wings are stretched and in place of a handsome man there now stands a sleek dragon in all its regal glory. Tears well up in Jack’s eyes at the sight and he manages to find some energy left in him to stand and stumble over, throwing his arms around Pitch’s muzzle and pressing their foreheads together.

“Let’s go. Let’s go somewhere far, far away from here where they’ll never find us.”

“Yes.”

Pitch’s voice reverberates through his entire being, finally sounding _right_. He pulls back, offering fiery golden eyes a watery smile and then Pitch turns around and crouches. Jack doesn’t waste another second climbing on regardless of his fatigue. When Pitch takes to the air, it feels like coming home.

Pitch flies straight up, coming to soar above the meandering clouds just as alarm bells start tolling below them. The sound fades quickly as they gain distance and soon the night air is filled only with the sound of beating wings, the rush of wind and Jack’s unrestrained laughter.

Whatever the future might hold for them or wherever they go doesn’t matter, as long as they are together, Jack knows they will be just fine.

In the fairytale stories he’s read, happily ever after would be royalty returning to their kingdoms after being rescued and having defeated evil. But not for Jack. His happily ever after is right here in the dragon’s clutches.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
